


A Wizard's First Day on Deep Space Nine

by Severely_Lupine



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-22
Updated: 2009-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severely_Lupine/pseuds/Severely_Lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Bashir meets the new officer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wizard's First Day on Deep Space Nine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [odogoddess](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=odogoddess).



"So, you’re the wizard!"

Ensign Black pursed his lips and glared at the overly-enthusiastic doctor.  "Yes."

The doctor directed him to an exam table, looking as if he might burst.  He began his work in silence.  Finally, he leaned in and asked, "Do you have it on you?"

Black’s eyes narrowed.  "Have what, may I ask?"

The doctor grinned.  "Your wand."

Black sighed.  "I understand you’ve been genetically enhanced, Doctor Bashir."

The doctor looked uncomfortable at abruptly becoming the focus of the conversation.  "Er . . . yes."

"And yet the idea of someone having, shall we say, extra-human abilities drives you giddy?"

Bashir shifted.  "You must understand what a medical marvel people like you are.  People like me, on the other hand—"

"Augments, you mean."

The doctor cleared his throat.  "That’s a rather archaic term."

"So is _wizard_."

"Erm, yes . . . well, what I mean is, people like me get our special talents because of science.  It’s all documented, tested. . . . We know exactly what was done to make us how we are.  But you . . . Well, it’s magic!  By its very nature, it defies scientific study.  You must see how fascinating that is!"

"Really?" Black drawled.  "I hadn’t noticed.  Somehow I suppose the endless questions, stares, and requests for demonstrations throughout my entire study at Starfleet Academy must have escaped my attention."

Bashir finally had the decency to look embarrassed.  "Is it really that hard for you?"

"How would you like it if every time you turned around, someone was asking you to perform tricks or help you cheat on their assignments?  Most magical families have either moved to worlds where knowledge of our existence is less widespread or simply warded their homes and businesses to be undetectable by Muggles."

"How horrible. . . . Is that why there aren't many wizards in Starfleet?"

Black nodded.  "Even though the Statute of Secrecy has been lifted, we still find it most convenient to stay out of Muggle affairs.  Oh, we're not completely antisocial, of course.  Hogwarts, and many other schools of magic, even allow extraterrestrial magic-users to attend.  I myself shared a dormitory with a Klingon—stern fellow, but he had a wicked talent for transfiguration."

"If I may ask," said Bashir as if the lack of permission had hindered him thus far, "why did you join, then?"

"You've read my medical file?"

"Yes . . ."

"The Earth's moon has a very unique magical signature when fully lit by Sol.  It's a phenomenon that is replicated nowhere else in the known galaxy."

Bashir nodded.  "Ah . . . So it's to do with you being a werewolf."

"Lycanthrope is the more correct term.  But yes.  I haven't transformed since leaving Earth eight months ago."

"Really?"  Bashir was leaning into Black's personal space again.  "What's it like?  Transforming, I mean."

"Like bursting out of your own skin, going insane for a while, then being stuffed back into the tattered remains of your body," Black said in a flat tone.

Bashir simply stared at him with a shocked expression.

"It's unpleasant."

"Yes, I imagine so . . ." Bashir mused.  "That explains why you left Earth, but not why you joined Starfleet."

Black shrugged and said, "I'm a Gryffindor," as if that explained everything.

"Hmm."  Bashir continued with his scans, but he seemed distracted.

After a long moment, Black gave in.  "You still want to see me do magic, don't you?"

"No, I wouldn't . . ."  Bashir couldn't even finish the lie.  "Well, it would be useful to know, in case there was . . . a medical emergency . . ."

It was a better attempt than Black was used to people making to hide their curiosity.  He pulled his wand from the sleeve of his uniform.  Bashir watched with rapt attention as Black pointed his wand at the doctor and Levitated him a foot in the air.

"Amazing!"

Black rolled his eyes.  The doctor was clearly getting far too much of a thrill out of a simple first-year spell.

"If you're done showing off your parlor tricks," said a voice from the doorway, "Captain Sisko would like a word with you, Ensign."

Black released the spell and turned to see Constable Odo standing with his arms crossed.

"Of course, sir."  Black slid off the exam bed and asked Bashir, "Are we done here?"

"Yes," said Bashir, still looking a bit dazed.  "The scans are complete.  I'll update your medical file now."

Black nodded and followed Odo out of the infirmary.

As he walked beside the security chief, Black watched him out of the corner of his eye, waiting for Odo to make some mention of his magic.  But the shapeshifter said nothing.  Black continued to wait for it: the curiosity or fear or suspicion that Muggles of all species invariably leveled on magic-users.

Finally, when they reached the turbolift, Odo looked at him again. 

"About your magic, Ensign . . ."

Black braced himself and wondered which it would be.  Suspicion was most likely from this one.

"Keep it away from main engineering.  Chief O'Brien won't thank you to make his job harder than it is."

"Yes, sir," said Black, suppressing a relieved smile.  "I _have_ been around starship power systems, you know."

Odo merely _humph_ed and stepped into the turbolift.

Only after he joined Odo and the turbolift started to rise did Black realize he was still holding his wand.  They'd walked through at least twenty meters of crowded Promenade and not one person had reacted in any noticeable way.  And why would they?  What was a bit of wood when there were people from every corner of the galaxy and every walk (or crawl, or slither . . . ) of life within arm's reach?  Surely, in a place like this, novelty, if it registered at all, wore off quickly.  Even the over-eager Bashir had seemed remarkably pacified by a single simple demonstration.

As he stood beside the Changeling officer, Black thought he might just like it here . . . on the edge of the Federation . . . where every person was as strange as the next.


End file.
